


Softtttt

by Kekgirl21



Category: Feud (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kekgirl21/pseuds/Kekgirl21
Summary: This is  just a dabble hehe
Relationships: Joan Crawford/Bette Davis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Softtttt

A glass, tipped. Someone laughed, loud, hearty, shrill. Music was now ringing through the thin walls of the hotel, in the middle of the night. Thick smoke, deep hushed voices. 

Joan Crawford lay sill on her hard bed, listening to the sounds of the party. She hadn’t been invited. Of course she hadn’t. They didn’t like her. It was cold in the room, just as she ordered it, but all of a sudden she regretted it. Pulling her pink cardigan around her, she sat up. 

„Just one.“, she whispered, grabbing her bottle. She took a sip, knowing it would not be just one. Sitting back, she listened to the noises ringing through the wall. 

It had been a rough few days on the set of Hush Hush sweet Charlotte. Joan didn’t understand, why the cast treated her like this. She had been nothing but her nice, understanding self. With high standards, but what did they expect? Obviously someone like Bette, who, from the sounds of it, was now whirled around the room. 

Bette. The beautiful, wonderful, oh so mean Bette. She could be an angel if she wanted to, but Joan never was on the receiving end of her witty humour. No matter how many gifts she had send her, no matter how much she had smiled. Nothing had worked on Bette. No trick, no treats. 

She grabbed her glass again, here went her one drink rule again. A tear found her way down her cheek. The beautifully sculpted cheek, that had betrayed her. Like anything in life, her body was giving up on her, no matter what she did. She whipped the tear away with her long, slightly shaking fingers. 

Bette had been rather amused by the party. She had danced with the full cast. She had smoked her favourite cigarette, she had laughed with tender feelings. This was going to be a good picture, she could feel it. 

„Hey Bette!“, a Crew member shouted. 

„What!“, she flashed a smile, holding up her glass. 

„Where’s Crawford?“, the woman asked. 

„How the hell am I supposed to know?“, she shrugged. Crawford, beside being invited, had not shown up. Why should she care anyway, the woman would probably ruin the party. 

„Has anyone seen Crawford?“, the whispers stared. It quieted down for a minute. 

„Someone should go and ask where she is.“, a voice sounded. More people chimed In, nodding along. 

„Bette you do it.“ Bette shook her head. Why should she do it. 

„Im not going into the lions cage. Over my dead body. God no.“, she lit another cigarette. 

Someone pushed her towards the door. She tried to push his hand away, half amused, half annoyed. She would not try and her HER into the room. She would probably complain about the temperature being wrong. 

„Go get her.“, Bob looked at her with pleading eyes. „Shes gonna be insufferable if you don’t.“

„Why me?“, she held onto the door knob, her head to dizzy from the alcohol to grab a full thought. 

„Because she likes you bette.“, he grinned, knowing he had already won. 

„Brother. Thats the Entire fucking Problem.“, the blonde hair shook around her face, but she pushed through the door, with the cheering of the crowed In her ears.

....

Then there was a knock. A tender knock on her door. 

„Joan.“, the Voice sounded through the wood. It was Bette. 

„What.“, Joan Tried to sound as Normal as possible, but her voice betrayed her, sounding more like a little girl, that had lost her doll, than a grown woman. 

The door opened, a crack. „Are you decent?“, the snarled question made Joan check her robe. Yes. She was decent. Decently drunk. She hoped her makeup wasn’t smudged by her tears. 

Bette stepped into the room, a cigarette lit, a glass of something in her other hand. Joan turned away from the door, trying to hide her face. 

„We Are throwing a party next door, they have been asking for you. It’s terribly rude not to join when your invited.“, Bette leaned against the now closed door. 

„well I haven’t been invited.“, Joan tried to hold her head up, but the tears came back. Sometimes she cursed the waterfalls, that hid behind her eyes. 

„I send you an invite yesterday, Joan.“, Bette shook her head, then stopped. „Are you crying?“ it didn’t sound very concerned. 

„No.“, Joan turned away further. 

„What is the matter with you.“, Bette stepped closer. Still not warmth in her voice, Joan shivered. 

„It’s nothing.“

„Alright.“, the blonde turned. „Then cry alone.“, her hand grabbed the door handle.

„You’ve been so mean.“, Joan whispered, suddenly facing the woman. The tears stood in her eyes, big. Like raindrops on a September evening. 

Bette froze. 

„I? Mean?“, she turned. „I wasn’t mean.“, the cigarette dropped its ashes onto the carpet, but they didn’t notice. 

„I was not mean Joan, I was perfectly civil.“ 

Joan didn’t say anything, but one of the drops left it’s case and ran down an already marked path. 

„God.“, Bette exhaled. „Don’t cry about it. What are you, a child?“, her words were cold, but she stepped the few feet into the room and sat on the armchair next to the bed, Joan was sitting on. 

„Weve both made it quite clear, that we don’t like each other.“,Bette crossed her legs seemingly nonchalant, but her hands were nervous, the heels of her shoes clicking.

„I never said anything like that.“, Joan looked down, the second tear now dripping into her hands. „I always tried to be friends with you Bette.“

„Well it didn’t seem to me like you meant it, to be quite frank.“

Before anyone could answer to that, there was a loud crash, followed by a scream. Both women got up really quick, stepping out of the room, the seriousness of the conversation forgotten. 

„Im so sorry bette.“, someone told them. A cigarette had been flipped onto Bettes bed and it had properly burned the whole thing, before anyone could put it out. Smoke came out of the room, as firefighters rushed into and guest of the party rushed out.

„Mrs Davis?“, a hotel staff took the blonde aside. 

„Im sorry, but we Are all full. Would it be alright, if we got you a room I our sister hotel?“

„How far away is it?“, Bette looked at the time. 11 pm. Very late, for an actress.“

„It’s around.“, the boy looked around nervously , „40 minutes.“

„That won’t do.“, Bette scoffed. „I’ll have to be on set And I need my sleep.“, she looked at bob, who was standing behind her.

„Why don’t you just share with someone?“, he shrugged, his kind eyes twinkling suspiciously.

„You can stay with me.“, Joan chimed in, as the people around scattered away, the party seemed to loosen up, and no one cared enough about where she would be staying, to keep standing in a cold hallway.

Bette wanted to say no. Her body was ready to say no. But the firefighters were still rushing in and out, and it was really late and she would not be staying with bob for the night. She felt her head nod. 

„Thank you.“, she pressed out. 

„Thank you Joan.“, Bob pressed her shoulders, turning to leave. „Good Night. Have a restful night.“

And then the door closed behind them, after the firefighter had explained, that nothing had been damaged and that it should be fine in a few days and she’d be able to get her things out, tonight it would not be safe. 

They stood there, in the quite room. 

„I’ll sleep on the couch.“, Bette pulled off her shoes. The alcohol In her body made her a bit wobbly. 

„No.“, Joan got out a nightgown, pink, Chiffon, and held it out for the blonde. „The bed is big enough.“

And because she didn’t think straight and somehow her brain was not working, she took the horrendous gown, got into the bathroom, put it on and slipped under the covers next to Joan. It was warm. The woman was laying there, on her back with some sort of bandage over her face, on her back. 3 feet apart. The Grand Canyon between them and still Bette could feel the body heat. 

Joan tried to sleep. She really did. But no matter how hard she tried her brain whispered“she doesn’t like you.“, or „she hates you.“ into her ears. A tear made its way down her face again. It burned down a path, falling onto her chest.  
She tried to be quiet. 

„Are you crying again?“, the woman next to her murdered. 

Joan didn’t answer. 

Bette sighed. Deeply, As if annoyed. She was in fact not annoyed, but rather distressed. Was Joan really feeling that bad? Was she The cause for that?

„Can I do anything?“, Bette didn’t want to ask, but it seemed her mouth had a mind of its own. 

Again silence. The darkness sealed it around them. Then Joan whispered something. 

„Will you hug me?“, it was faint. As if spoken In embarrassment, with a hand held over her face. 

„Hug you?“, bette shrieked quietly. „I will not hug you.“, she sat up, staring into the darkness. What did she think, Bette was.

Joan turned around. wetness pooling in the space between her eye and sculptured nose. Bette sighed, looking at the shaking shadow next to her. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she wanted to help.

„Would it make you feel better?“, she asked, her tone not quite as firm as she wanted it to be.

The shaking stalled for a second. Bette shook her head. „I can’t believe I’m doing this.“, she murmured to herself, sliding down the silk sheets, that Joan must have brought along with her. Then, apprehensively, she tried to find the body next to her, her hand searching for a second, before meeting the warmth. 

The shaking stopped as soon as Bettes hand touched her. Joan held her breath, as the hand began stroking her arm, at a distance, but oh so warm. It was a strong hand, the hand of a working woman, that clumsily touched her elbow. 

Bette, not entirely minding the contact and under the influence, moved a bit closer. She felt the skin on Joans arm, soft and warm and so different then what she was used to. 

The second Bette moved forward, Joan moved her body backward and they met. Suddenly the air was sharp. It could have been cut with a knife. As Bettes hand rested uncomfortably on Joans arm, her hips pressed into Bette, Bettes head not perfectly aligned with Joans, so her breath hit the satin clad shoulder. 

Then, very quietly, Joan took the hand, pulling it slowly over, with gentle fingers, and letting it rest on her abdomen. Bette didn’t even get the chance to protest as a warm feeling spread in her body. The woman pressed into her, felt so right, so perfectly fitting, on a different day she would have jumped out of the bed, but somehow she pulled even closer, letting her head rest against the long neck. 

Bette didn’t intent to fall asleep, but Joan began stroking her hand, with her long, delicate fingers and sleep overcame both of them. 

When Bette woke up, she felt two hands resting on her. She didn’t dare to move, as she tried to estimate the situation she was in. Joan had pushed her nose into her cheek, her hair spreading all over the blondes face, tickling. They must have changed positions, because Bette was being held by two strong arms, while the sun came up. 

She closed her eyes again. It had been a while since someone had held her like that. Like she was precious. „I’m not going to be able to sleep alone tonight.“, she thought, as Joan battered her eyes open.


End file.
